


a silent saying of the heart

by virgohotspot



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Clarke is 17 and Bellamy is 20, Drug Dealer!Bellamy, Exes, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss of Virginity, Marijuana, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Schoolgirl!Clarke, Smut, Soft First Time Sex, Unsafe Sex, Valentine's Day smut, age gap, jealous!Bellamy, pining!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgohotspot/pseuds/virgohotspot
Summary: Clarke plans to lose her virginity to her high school boyfriend on Valentine's Day. She doesn't expect to be making a pit stop to his drug dealer's alleyway in order to pick up his weed. Nor does she plan to abandon her Valentine's Day plans to hook up with said drug dealer, Bellamy Blake, the man she broke up with just a couple months prior.Or, Clarke abandons her Valentine's Day plans with her boyfriend to be with his drug dealer, a.k.a her ex.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 200





	a silent saying of the heart

Just standing in this alleyway makes her feel dirty. Clarke stands straight and poised, careful not to lean against the dusty brick or wretched dumpster. She tries not to internalize the scatter of sounds, from bugs or maybe rats – it could very possibly be the scratch of candy bar wrappers, something that couldn’t crawl up her bare legs. She glances down the alleyway, silently praying for him to show up, so she could just get the fuck out of here and go home.

The edge of Arkadia Prep’s plaid, checkered checker skirt whisked up her thighs, the wind chilling her thighs. Clarke yelps, curling her fingers around the hem and tugging it down her bottom. She smoothens out her skirt, ironing out wrinkles and weather-related mishaps, head swiveling around the darkened alleyway, hoping that he was later than he already was.

The afternoon sun streamed a ray of light into the alleyway, allowing her to not be closed in complete darkness. Part of her doesn’t want anyone to catch a glimpse of her, on the wrong side of their small town, tucked into an alleyway and waiting for nothing but trouble. Another part of her hopes for a witness, just in case he doesn’t show up and she gets brutally murdered by a robber interested in preying on a high school student in a schoolgirl uniform.

Clarke ducks her head down, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Her fingers curl around the wad of cash in her hand, the faded green of the bills contrasting against her pale skin. She thumbs through the separate bills, the poor combination of mere curiosity and sheer boredom disrupting her logical thinking, and she calculates the amount of money in her hand. _Ten, ten, ten, twenty–_

“Hey, pretty girl,” The low of his voice should send chills, not warmth through her body. Clarke looks up, as Bellamy waltzes down the alleyway, a smirk on his lips. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“You did,” Clarke snarls, turning to face him. He halts in front of her, amused by her irritation. “Maybe you don’t have plans for today, but I do.”

“Oh, you do?” Bellamy teases, leaning against the brick wall. “Is that why you’re here, picking up your boyfriend’s weed, while he…?”

“He has a surprise for me. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“Right, because Clarke Griffin would never be caught picking up weed, unless her perfect boyfriend asked her to.”

Clarke tilts her head up, chin pointed. Bellamy’s arms are tucked across his chest, mischief twinkling in his eye, a sour taste on his tongue. The smirk sprawled across his features may mislead others, but not her. Clarke knows Bellamy better than that. She wishes she didn’t, yearns for the day she won’t able to tell that his teasing is more than a taunt. But that day doesn’t seem to be approaching anytime soon, and she can’t waste any more time wishing things were different.

She steps forward, a mask of false confidence waving over her as she outstretches her hand, money wedged in her palm. “It’s all here.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicker from her to her palm, the wad of cash presenting gracefully before him. His tongue smoothens over his bottom lip, thick and flat and Clarke’s gaze drops to his mouth. Her throat goes dry, and she gulps down to bring some moisture back into it. She forces herself to look back up at him, but his eyes are already on her. Mischief replaced with amusement, as a blush creeps up onto her cheeks.

His fingertips ghost over her palm as he accepts the cash from her. Clarke drops her hand to her side, ignoring the tingle in her palm that lingers from his touch. She wraps her fingers around her palm, as if savoring the touch, trying to be subtle as his eyes lock with hers. Clarke keeps her gaze steady, if only to not appear weakened by his stare, pursing her lips into a tight line.

He only looks away from her to stare down at the greenery in his hands, thumbing through the cash. His teeth graze his lips, Clarke shifting her weight from one foot to the other, with nothing to do but watch him. She used to take leisure in such activities, in just soaking in the mundanity of his daily activities – sometimes, her eyes would linger when he would do this, despite her disdain towards his deals.

“It’s all there,” Clarke reiterates, a sharpness to her voice that makes him smirk.

“Your boyfriend has a tendency to short change me,” Bellamy sighs deeply, ultimately satisfied as he tucks the wad of cash into his back pocket. “I’ve got to be cautious of him taking what’s mine.”

Clarke ignores the dampness in between her thighs, a scowl resonating over her features. “He didn’t steal me from you, Bellamy. I ended things between us before I got with Finn.”

“You left me for another mop of hair and someone who smokes weed instead of dealing it,” Bellamy shrugs nonchalantly. There’s nothing nonchalant about the venom in his tone. “Someone who looks good in a prep school uniform.”

“You’re such an ass,” Clarke huffs out a dry laugh. “I left you because one day, you’re going to get thrown in jail. Not because you don’t attend the same fucking school as I do.”

Bellamy shakes his head, his smirk dissipating into a cruel smile. A part of her wants to take pity, knowing that she hurt him. But the other part of her is just too logical, too sensible to allow herself to do that. She ended things – broke up with him, in all technicality – because she could not see herself being together forever with a drug dealer. No matter how much he made her smile, or how her heart glowed around him, or how his laugh resonated through her bones, his touch imprinting an everlasting impression – nothing of what they were was practical.

They’d only been together for a couple of weeks, after Clarke had been so hesitant to date him. But their connection, the love she undoubtedly was beginning to fester for him, was surprising. She’d given in to the aura that was Bellamy Blake, and found herself enthralled in everything about him. She hadn’t cared about him graduating from the public school on the wrong side of their small town, or about his day job at the mechanic shop. She admired his work ethic, his dedication to providing for him and his sister and ultimately, his passion for her. So much so, that she nearly looked past his night job.

A night job she did not condone, and still does not condone. But when Finn asked her to pick up his supply, promising a romantic outing in exchange, she didn’t fight him with the same vigor she did Bellamy. In fact, she hadn’t even known Bellamy was Finn’s dealer until he provided her with his contact information. A number she already had programmed into her phone.

“Oh, come on, baby,” Bellamy teases, reaching his hand out to gently caress her locks of hair. He towers over her, staring down with his dark eyes. Clarke tries to still under his touch, but finds her eyes ghosting shut as his fingers glide down her cheek. “You know I’d never let anything happen to me.”

“It’s not always up to you,” Clarke doesn’t know why she’s even entertaining this conversation. She’s missed his touch. “The wrong person and–”

“You want to talk about the wrong person?” Bellamy’s voice is soft, despite the heat behind his words. “Let’s talk about your boytoy of the month.”

She should say something – defend her boyfriend, for fuck sake’s. But Bellamy’s touch is a power that she’s weak to, and he knows exactly how to keep her captivated. His hand cups her cheek gently, the rough callouses on his palms colliding with the softness of her skin as his thumb, previously thumbing through her boyfriend’s wad of cash, graces her bottom lip. She shivers, his thumb lightly tracing the outline of her lips.

“Finn, right?” Bellamy challenges. She knows he’s smirking without even opening her eyes. “He’s been a client of mine for a couple of months. Always about five or ten short, till I threatened to break his legs if he did it again.” He must feel her tense, because he instantly soothes her. “Shh, pretty girl, you know how convincing I can be.”

She does know; she can feel exactly how convincing he is, coursing through her body and causing her to ache in the most unholy of places. Clarke’s mind fogs, Bellamy’s thumb creeping up to the thickness of lips.

“Still my pretty girl, huh?” Bellamy marvels. There’s a pause, and she opens her eyes, albeit, only halfway. She locks eyes with him, his dark eyes morphing into an acknowledgement of something more sinister. “You let him touch you?”

Somehow, that makes her find her voice. “Bellamy–”

Bellamy steps closer, his features hardening. His torso brushes up against hers, but his hand never moves from his cheek, thumb planted on the center of her lip. She could take his finger into her mouth right now, a muscle memory of hers. The sane part of Clarke restrains her from doing so, but fuck, does she want to.

“Does he touch you like I did?”

_Fuck_. Memories of their few weeks together, just a summer ago, flash through her mind. Nobody’s ever touched her like Bellamy has, his hard kisses against her lips morphing into soft trails throughout her body, his hands palming her ass, caressing her breasts, his bare torso sliding along hers in a heap of sweat. The heat between her legs now is almost unbearable, and he’s so close, and he’s right here, and–

“Did he fuck you?”

Clarke’s eyes flutter open, her the beat of her heart halting. Bellamy’s grip tightens, if only slightly, but enough for her to notice it. She meets his gaze, those dark, lustful eyes a little regretful for the question. Her body stiffens while her mind tries to work on some collateral damage, tries to figure out if lying or telling the truth would be beneficial here.

Bellamy seems to figure out the truth before she decides whether or not to tell it. The smirk returns to his lips, lacking amusement this time. Taunts interlaced with victory, the knowledge of what Finn and her haven’t done nothing but a stamp of what they aren’t. Her insides churn, and she hates that every part of her is still yearning for him, despite the boyfriend who’s busy preparing her surprise back home.

“He hasn’t,” Bellamy teases. “Oh poor baby, probably so frustrated.”

“We didn’t fuck either,” Clarke spits out. “And I was frustrated about a lot of other things.”

The smirk drops from Bellamy’s face. It’s replaced with something softer, kinder, a genuine side that makes Clarke’s heart glow. His thumb presses harder against her lip, tipping inside of her mouth. “You wanted it to be special. I was going to make it special.”

“Well, now Finn is going to make it special.” Clarke snaps, finding the strength to smack his hand away from her mouth.

Bellamy’s hand dangles at his side, a look of disbelief written across his face. His eyebrows raise, as if a challenge has been presented, a low huff emitting from his lips. “You’re going to fuck Finn on Valentine’s Day? How goddamn cliché.”

“I rather cliché than whatever mess you’re a part of.” Logic finds Clarke once again, and she holds out her hand. “Now, can I get what I paid for?”

His eyes graze over her, still darkened, but now a bit hazy. Clarke finds the strength to stare back at him, straightening her posture and tilting her chin upwards, a façade of confidence and security that she surely does not feel. Bellamy fixates on her, always being able to analyze every part of her, despite her attempt at charades.

Clarke swallows thickly, and Bellamy smirks. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a mixture of nerves and impatience. He’s more still then her, propping himself back up against the wall. He intends to have her crack first, say something to reel herself back in. But she’s just as stubborn as he is, maybe more.

Bellamy inhales sharply, exhaling through his nose in disdain. He gives in, reaching into his back pocket and holding out the bag of weed to her. He dangles it in front of her, tauntingly. Clarke stares at the small, plastic bag, its green contents inside and squints. She doesn’t get the fascination with weed, and it’s even more irritating now that her boyfriend is smoking it and her ex-boyfriend is dealing it to him.

“Come on, baby,” Bellamy teases. “It wouldn’t kill you just to look at it.”

Clarke snatches the bag from him, crumbling its contents in her palm. “I’m not your baby.” Hastily, she shoves the bag into her coat pocket, looking around the darkened alleyway for witnesses. She looks back to Bellamy with a fire in her eyes, “Don’t wait to stop this until you land behind bars, Bellamy.”

He huffs out a dry laugh, humorless and bitter. Bellamy straightens, once again standing over her, his features hardening. Clarke stares back up at him, trying not to blink and give away her stance. Bellamy is not the slightest bit intimidated, but Clarke only hopes he cannot hear the beat of her heart. He was always able to resonate with her senses, read her mind before a thought even appeared in it.

She aches for him to touch her. To reach his hand into her hair, ghost his fingers down her cheek, thumb in her mouth. She’s forgotten how he tastes like. Her brain is telling her to go, that she got what she came for, but her body cements her in place.

“If I land behind bars,” Bellamy starts slow, his voice raspy and hard. “It’s because of clients like your boyfriend.”

_Finn_ , Clarke remembers. Her sweet boyfriend, who only smokes socially, who’s preparing a romantic Valentine’s Day surprise for her, who’s waiting for her. While she stands here, with his dealer and her ex-boyfriend, aching to be touched by someone that is not Finn. Guilt seeps into her chest, paired with the assumption Bellamy’s seemed to make.

“Stop blaming others for your choices, Bellamy.” Clarke seethes, taking a step back from him.

The wind whisks through the alleyway once more, hiking up her skirt. She squeals, wrapping her fingers around the hem and pulling it down. She’s got to get out of here.

Glancing back up at Bellamy, her cheeks flushed pink, she’s surprised to see him without a smirk. He glowers at her, although his eyebrows raise suggestively at her skirt. Clarke smoothens out the plaid, straightening her posture and trying to appear poised, as if every limb of hers doesn’t feel like pure jelly.

Clarke takes one last look at Bellamy, for God knows how long. She intends not to come back here, prays Finn never asks her to, because seeing him is all too much for her. He stares back at her like he’s thinking the same, their shared yearning for one another merely a disruption to the flow of their lifestyles.

Taking a shaky breath, Clarke turns away from him. She’s halfway out of the alleyway, when she hears him clear his throat.

“Hey, Clarke,” Bellamy calls out to her. She shouldn’t stop, but she does. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Clarke absorbs the twist of disdain in his voice, seeping into her chest and plaguing her with regret and guilt. She shouldn’t have made that comment about Finn making things special, not when Bellamy made her _feel_ that way. Not when she’s hurt him enough.

All Clarke wants to do is move on with her life. She’s graduating from high school this year, intends to go to an Ivy League, and Bellamy, three years her senior, already has his life setup here in Arkadia. A life that Clarke could never be a part of, much less condone. Although, she’s hyperaware of the hypocrisy that burns in her coat pocket.

Pushing her shoulders back and holding her head high, Clarke begins to stride out of the alleyway without so much as an acknowledgement to Bellamy. Whatever this is between them is done, and it has been for a long time. She’s barely a couple steps from the alleyway when she hears the pounding of footsteps behind her.

She should keep going, waltz right out of the alleyway and head to Finn’s house. He has a special day planned for the two of them, and he’s her boyfriend. Finn is the one she should be spending time with, not wasting away her hours in this alleyway with her somewhat of an ex who she abandoned. Clarke’s knows what the right thing to do is, she always does – it’s all she’s ever done, her whole life.

Clarke whirls around, only to caught in Bellamy’s arms, crashing her lips against his. It’s frenzied, and passionate and woefully unplanned, but Clarke could not find it in herself to care less. She’s missed the feeling of Bellamy’s lips against hers, his tongue snaking past her mouth smoothening along hers. Interlocked in one another, hands fisting into one another’s, a fire burning and surging within their bodies. She hasn’t felt this way in so long, hasn’t felt this way with anyone aside from him.

Bellamy repositions them, hastily gliding them against the brick wall. Clarke’s hands come down from his hair, to his cheeks, holding him place, afraid he’ll be the one to let go this time. She should know better than that, and innately she does. If it were up to Bellamy, he would keep her like this forever.

He wraps his fingers around her wrists, bringing her hands down to their sides. Intertwining their fingers, Bellamy hoists up her arms to pin it above her head. He holds them there firmly with one hand, while his lips detach from hers, trailing a slew of kisses down from her cheek to her neck.

Clarke gasps out, unable to hold onto him as her forearms burn with the stretch. “Bellamy–”

Bellamy bites down sharply on her neck to silence her. She whimpers at the sting, but arches her back in pleasure, trying to get as close to him as she possibly can. He uses his free hand to palm her breasts through her shirt, roughly grasping at her to evoke the same reaction. Clarke’s body is screaming for him, so similar to how her heart yearns for him. She wants more from this, knows she doesn’t deserve to have it.

“Greedy girl,” Bellamy growls in her ear, his hot breath trickling down her skin. “You want me to touch you?”

She’s not sure she can get the words out. Bellamy draws back, resting his forehead against hers with heavy heaves. Clarke just nods, hurriedly, eagerly, anything to get his lips back on her. Bellamy’s eyes narrow, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. His nails dig into her wrists, her skin scratching against the brick of the wall as his free hand comes down from her tit to grasp at her waist.

“Answer me,” Bellamy snarls.

“Yes,” Clarke hurries to respond, but it comes out like a breath of air. “I want you to touch me.”

“Where, pretty girl?”

“Everywhere.”

Bellamy’s eyes sparkle with something dangerous, with a glint to his infamous smirk. It’s still not enough for him, though. He’s going to make her work for it. Not that Clarke doesn’t think she deserves it after everything that she put him through. The heat between her legs grows as he leans in close, so close he’s out of her line of vision, but she can feel his breath, the brush of his lips against hers.

“Oh, baby,” Bellamy breathes. “You’ve been missing me, haven’t you?”

_So much_. So much that it drives Clarke insane most nights. Curled up in bed, long after she’s hung up the phone with Finn, mind racing to everything that includes Bellamy Blake. Not just him touching her, but the _way_ he touched her, the way he made her feel so special just with the ghost of his fingers, the way that he loved her. It’s all consuming, and Clarke’s been trying to push it out of her mind since she ended things.

But she never could. Which is why, she supposes, that now she stands here, pushed up into the corner of an alleyway, while Bellamy’s hands roam her body. This is the last place she ever pictured letting anyone touch her like this, but Bellamy’s always made her feel safe, secure, even in the scariest of situations. It’s when he wasn’t around that she had doubts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Clarke admits with a whimper.

Bellamy growls into her ear. Abrupty, he brings his hand up to her blouse and rips it down the middle, the buttons popping off and bouncing onto the concrete below. Her red lace bra, the one she was supposed to be wearing for Finn, stands proudly along her chest.

Before Clarke can complain, he snakes his hand up her skirt. She hears the tear of her pantyhose, before feeling the thickness of his fingers against the flesh of her thigh. He squeezes at her skin roughly, just a reminder that he’s here, then yanks down the rest of the pantyhose. Bellamy tears them clean down the middle, a perfect entryway to her.

“I don’t believe you,” Bellamy snarls.

He moves aside her panties, slicking his fingers against her wetness. Clarke moans, arching her back to get more of him, put his pin is firm on her hands. Bellamy draws back to stare at her, his face twisted into this mixture of hurt and anger. There’s a flash of love in his eyes, hiding behind the darkness of his lust.

“You should,” Clarke dares to say. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

A slow smirk crawls across Bellamy’s face. He fails to relent, however, pushing two of his fingers inside of Clarke without warning. She screws her eyes shut, adjusting to the bulk of his fingers as they slide into her. In every way, Bellamy is bigger, more precise with his actions, knows what he’s doing. He knows just how to make her absolutely crazy.

Clarke whines, his slow pace nothing like the Bellamy she remembers. His touch has always been like magic, exact and wonderful, and could make Clarke see stars. He’s just teasing her now, she knows, but it’s been months since she’s been touched this way. Nothing and no one have ever compared to the way Bellamy’s touched her – to the way that he loved her. And now that it’s so close, at her fingertips, she yearns for the full experience of everything that Bellamy is.

Bellamy’s smart enough to know that’s exactly what she wants. Clarke has enough intelligence to know that he’s going to give it to her. Eventually. They’re both on the same mind wave, knowing exactly what they crave from one another, yet knowing just how stubborn they are going to be about this.

“You are,” Bellamy slides his fingers out of her slowly. Clarke whines, and he silences her with a hard kiss to her lips. “Always mine, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

Clarke moans into his mouth, and finally, his pace picks up. Relentless and fast, Bellamy’s fingers thrust in and out of Clarke, curling at just the perfect angle. He latches onto her nipple, nudging the bra downwards with his chin, teeth grazing her areola. Clarke’s arms are aching, her cunt clenching around Bellamy’s fingers, tits bouncing for him and every part of her wants to explode. Once he brings his thumb up to her clit, rubbing fast, hard circles around her clit, she know she’s done for.

She yearns to hold for just a little longer, but then her eyes flick down to meet Bellamy’s dark and unforgiving, and Clarke comes undone. Her body slumps against the brick wall, but Bellamy’s holding her still, in every way. One hand holding her arms above her head, the other thrusting in out of her cunt and his mouth attached to her tit, tongue swirling around her nipple.

Her orgasm feels like it’ll never stop, coursing through her cunt and electrifying her body. Bellamy’s touches leave imprints, lingering on her skin for a while after he leaves, never fully dissipating off of her body. It’s like he leaves his mark, and no matter where she goes or who she’s with, there will be a constant, invisible reminder of who all of her really belongs to.

Bellamy lips pop off of her tit, coming up to slowly graze her mouth as she twitches in the aftershock of her orgasm. “Oh, baby, you needed me, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” Clarke mumbles. “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”

“Uh-huh?” Bellamy muses, his tongue smoothening over his lower lip, brushing against hers. “I could make you feel this way forever. If you hadn’t of left me.”

He lets go of her wrists, Clarke’s arms instantly falling down to her side. Her forearms ache, blouse still ripped and undone, bra hanging off one of her nipples, pantyhose shredded and panties tucked in between the crevasse of her thigh and cunt. Everything about her is disheveled, and Bellamy is completely collected and composed as he takes a step back.

“Hey,” Clarke can barely make out a breath. “Where are you going?”

“You should get back to your boyfriend,” Bellamy deadpans. “He’s making today extra special for you, isn’t he?”

Clarke pictures it for a moment – the bed, decorated with rose petals and candles littering the room. The soft hum of melodic music, the gentle touches and kisses. Finn fumbling with her bra, his fingers failing to find her clit, her tits neglected and her mind drifting off to Bellamy. Her boyfriend would say he loved her after he came, and maybe he’d even think that he’d meant it. Clarke would say it back, and know that she didn’t.

Bellamy goes to turn around, a strategic play on his part. Clarke lurches towards him, roughly grabbing his wrist with whatever strength she can muster and yanking him back to her. She staggers back against the brick wall, but Bellamy’s stumbling to her. Regaining enough of her balance, Clarke switches them around, Bellamy’s back now pressed up against the wall.

Her hands slide up in his chest. She’s still a bit of a daze, but her cunt is aching and her heart is racing, and she’s never wanted anything as bad as she wants Bellamy right now. So badly, she think she may just actually need him to get through the day, the week, the month, the year, _her life_. Clarke’s sick of pretending that she doesn’t want this, when it’s all she can ever think about.

“Forget about him,” Clarke says softly, betraying whatever logical plan that was so important to her just a few minutes ago. Her gaze flickers up to meet Bellamy’s. “At least, for now. It’s just you and me. Can’t it just be you and me, right now?”

The desperation in her voice is hard to miss, but it’s impossible to ignore when her hands drop to his belt. She doesn’t even fumble, remembering the intricacies of the buckle, undoing the seal before Bellamy can even think to stop her. His eyes fall over her, an attempt to appear unbothered, that Clarke can see right through. There’s the love and adoration in his eyes, and it’s almost as if she can peer through and see the heart that beats just for her.

Clarke slides his jeans down his thighs, just enough so that she can get access to him. She leans her torso against his, hand gliding along the fabric of his boxers. Bellamy’s breath hitches as her hand curls around the base of him. Long and thick, just like she remembers. The first time she held his dick in her hands, she could barely curl her two hands around him.

She smiles fondly at the memory, against his lips. Bellamy nips at her bottom lip, as if urging her to hurry up. Clarke kisses along his jaw, a silent slew of reassurances, eyes flickering open just to glance down the alleyway. It’s the late afternoon, and the sun should be setting soon, with not too many people passing by the streets. Everyone’s probably busy with their plans for Valentine’s Day.

Just as Clarke should be. And yet, she’s here, with her hand gliding up and down her ex’s cock, who happens to be the drug dealer to her current boyfriend. Her current boyfriend, who’s undoubtedly about to start waiting on her. A pang of guilt stabs at Clarke’s chest, but then Bellamy nudges her nose upwards, smashing his lips against hers, and all is forgotten. All there is, is her and Bellamy.

“It should always just be you and me,” Bellamy growls. “Show me that you’re mine.”

Clarke’s mouth begins to salivate as she yanks his boxers down. His cock sprints out, fully hard with that curve to him she adores. Her hand grazes the bareness of him, and he shivers under her touch. He’s so hard and thick in her hand, and fuck, she can’t believe she’s gone this long without him in her mouth.

She sinks to her knees, eyes locking with his. Bellamy was the first person she ever gave a blowjob, too, and he’s taught her all she knows. Clarke knows she’s good, because Finn always comes in less than a minute with her tricks. Bellamy’s got more of a hold on himself, though, and it would be intimidating, if not all the more tempting.

Pressing a soft kiss to his tip, Clarke watches Bellamy’s Adam’s apple bob as he stares down at her. Her bare knees scratch against the concrete, bound to leave a litter of scars, but all she cares about is the cock in front of her, and the man it belongs to – the man she belongs to.

Clarke encloses her mouth around the tip, circling her tongue slowly. Bellamy draws out a moan, and instead of his hand coming to the back of her hand, it comes to her cheek. Soft touches, the graze of his thumb against her cheek, silent encouragements exchanged with a look. His dark eyes, once unforgiving, showing the light she remembers so fondly. She brings her mouth down, taking all of his cock in her mouth, like she knows she can.

Anything to please him, Clarke will do. She picks up her pace, bobbing up and down his cock, slobbering all over him just like she knows he likes. He loves when she’s messy, eager just to have her mouth around him. Bellamy’s hand falls from her cheek, unable to keep up with her pace, and he goes to grip her hair, guiding her along his cock.

Her cheeks stretch around him, jaw aching, but Clarke knows he’s close. She forces herself to look up at him, through blurry tears and a mouthful of his cock. She’s sucking him with such a vigor, and Bellamy knows it, can feel it. He stares down at her, his face twisted into pleasure and awe, and her heart glows.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” Bellamy praises. “You miss having my cock in your mouth, huh? Nothing fills you up like me.”

Clarke moans around his cock in agreeance. He starts thrusting into her mouth, and Clarke takes it. She loves the feeling of him occupying every inch of her. Her cunt aches, as does her jaw, but she keeps up with his pace. Gagging, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth, Clarke brings her hand up to his balls to cup them and sends Bellamy over the edge.

Bellamy shoots his load into her mouth, his come hitting the back of her mouth. He brings his hand back to her cheek, softly. “Swallow it.”

She does, with one big gulp. His semen snakes down her throat, and she watches him as it does. Bellamy’s eyes never leave hers, and for a moment, they just stare there. He’s still catching his breath, and so is she.

In one swift motion, Bellamy’s hand curls around her wrist, hoisting Clarke up. She stumbles, falling against his chest. Not that he cares, pulling her in to taste himself on her lips. His tongue slides into her mouth, her hands fisting through his curls, a mesh of their half-naked bodies rubbing against one another.

“Take me home,” Clarke murmurs into his mouth. “Your place.”

His hand comes down to her ass, squeezing hard. “You sure you want that?”

“I want you.”

While it takes a minute or so to detach themselves from one another, it doesn’t take them long to gather themselves. Bellamy removes his leather jacket, hooking it around her shoulders and zipping it up for her to shield from the never-to-be-closed blouse. He buttons up his pants, and Clarke completely removes her pantyhose, throwing them into the dumpster before he leads her to his place, just a block away.

They’ve barely made into his apartment before their lips are locked again. The two stumble inside, limbs already partially entangled, Clarke’s hands in his hair, Bellamy’s on the small of her back. He kicks the door shut behind them, instantly going to unzipping his jacket and sliding it off of Clarke’s body. It falls to the floor with a thump. Bellamy hikes his shirt over his head, returning his lips to Clarke while his clothing meets his jacket on the ground.

Clarke discards what’s left of her blouse as they stumble towards his bedroom. She reaches behind to unhook her bra, but Bellamy’s already got his fingers around it. He snaps it off, curling his fingers around the middle of the cups and yanking it off. The back of Clarke’s leg hit against the edge of the bed, and Bellamy pushes her down onto the mattress without warning.

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathes, marveling at Clarke as she sprawls out on his bed. “Fuck, I’ve missed seeing you like this. So fucking beautiful.”

He doesn’t waste any more time, climbing on top of her. Bellamy brings his mouth down to hers, resuming their pace. Their mouths collide, tongues smoothening over one another and teeth clashing. Clarke wants nothing more than this, can think of nothing else, nothing logically that could satisfy her more than Bellamy.

Bellamy draws back, pecking her cheek reassuringly. He trails his mouth down her neck, teeth and mouth, before heading down the valley of her breasts. As his mouth reaches the hem of her skirt, Bellamy hooks his fingers under her skirt and panties, pulling them down to her ankles with one swift gesture. Clarke’s bare, completely exposed to him as he resumes his trail of kisses down her mound to her clit.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Bellamy snarls, reaching up to tweak at her nipple.

Clarke yelps, a mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through her body. “You. My pussy belongs to you.”

Those are the magic words. Bellamy presses a hard, welcoming kiss to her clit, before his tongue begins ravishing her pussy. Clarke cries out as Bellamy’s hands grip her hips to hold her steady. Bellamy’s tongue snakes in between her folds, before sinking into her center. The jabs are precise, purposeful, just how he knows she likes it.

“Oh, God, baby,” Clarke breathes, fingers curling in his hair. “Your tongue feels so good, fuck, I _need you_ so bad right now.”

“You have me,” Bellamy rasps against her cunt. “You’re the one who always leaves me.”

Clarke has the urge to burst into tears, whether it’s because of the grace of his mouth against her pussy, the words that hold a little more truth than she’d like to hear or a combination of both – she doesn’t know. She just knows she feels too good, too cared for, too loved to ever go back to none of this.

“I’m going to stay,” Clarke promises. “I’m yours, I mean it, I’m yours.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything. He changes his techniques, knowing she’s close to orgasm by the way her hips threaten to buck against his mouth. Bringing his tongue back to her clit, Bellamy begins flicking back and forth, rapid and unforgiving. The bundle of nerves pulsating throughout her cunt are uncontrollable.

Tears pool at the corner of Clarke’s eyes, “Oh, I’m going to come.”

Bellamy’s hands sink into the flesh of her hips, nails digging into her skin, tongue unrelenting. Her orgasm comes in spurts, jabbing at her clit furiously before waving over her body. Clarke cries out his name, fingers curling into his hair and scratching at his scalp. He feels his tongue on her clit, slowly smoothening across her, as she rides out of her orgasm.

“That’s it,” Bellamy coaxes her. “Come for me. Just for me.”

Breathless, Clarke sinks into the mattress, eyes half-lidded. Bellamy comes up, leaving a trail of kisses up her body, before he leaves one final one on the corner of her lips. Clarke’s arms stretch out for him, and Bellamy willingly embraces her. He flips them around so that she’s laying on his chest, the unsteady beat of his heart in sync with her erratic breaths. Bellamy’s arms curl around her, holding her in place.

Bellamy kisses the top of her head, his hand cascading up and down her bare back. His leg bends in between the two of hers, and Clarke finds herself grinding down on his thigh. Her clit is sensitive after two orgasms, but she’s aching for a third. Bellamy will probably give it to her in a bit, whether with his hands or his mouth. But she wants more.

Clarke tilts her head upwards, noting Bellamy already staring down at her. His face is blank, but his eyes sparkle with love and loss. Her heart aches, just as much as the rest of her body does, and she leans up to kiss him. It’s soft, unlike the rest of the ones that have occupied the past hour, an acknowledgement of what this is.

But Clarke can’t have this be it. She can’t go back to a life where she feels like this once every a couple months, if she’s lucky. Where all that matters is her image, the logistics of life. She can’t go back to Finn as her boyfriend, when the person she loves is curled up in her arms right now. She can’t do that, and she won’t.

“Bellamy,” Clarke murmurs against his lips. “I want to have sex.”

It’s less romantic, less sexy when she says it aloud. But Bellamy’s eyes widen, and he draws back slightly to look at her, to see if she means it. Clarke stares back at him with such an intensity for desire, that Bellamy nearly crumbles in her arms.

“I – I had a plan, when we were together,” Bellamy says, just above a whisper. “I was going to make it special. We were going to–”

Clarke shakes her head, silencing him. “The only way this wouldn’t be special, is if it wasn’t with you. I love you, Bellamy. I want to do this with you and only you.”

She brings him in for another soft kiss. Bellamy deepens the kiss, mouth smoothening over her own, and her heart flutters. Clarke locks her legs around his torso as Bellamy moves his hand to the back of her. He hoists her up into his arms, repositioning them on the bed. Sinking in between her legs, Bellamy brings his hand to her cunt, rubbing slow circles around her clit, just to make sure that she’s ready for him.

Bellamy uses his other hand to reach for the drawer beside the bed, probably to find a condom. Clarke catches his wrist, bringing his hand back to her. She takes two of his fingers in her mouth, slowly slicking her saliva around his digits. He draws them out of her with a guttural groan.

“No condom,” Clarke demands, ever so sweetly. “I want to feel all of you. I want you to come inside of me.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathes.

“I want to this, Bell. I really do,” Clarke says, staring up at him. “But if you don’t–”

“Pretty girl, there’s nothing I want more than this,” Bellamy smirks. He gives her nose a light kiss before resting his forehead against hers. “To have all of you, fuck, baby. I love you so much.”

Clarke tilts her head up, gasping as Bellamy circles his fingers around her clit. “I love you, too.”

Their lips lock, and Bellamy’s hand suddenly leaves from her clit. Clarke braces herself, a bit of nerves pricking her skin, but Bellamy ensures to soothe her. His hand comes up to slowly pat her head, lips slow and reassuring against hers, as she feels the tip of his dick against her entrance. Her breath hitches, and Bellamy kisses her sweetly, silent reassurances that he’s going to take care of her. She knows he will.

“You ready?” Bellamy asks, eyes locked with hers.

Clarke nods. “I’m ready for you, baby.”

Bellamy slowly slides in, and Clarke feels a sharp sting course through her. Her legs tighten around Bellamy’s torso, and she winces, nails digging into his shoulder. He looks down at her, alarmed.

“Hey, you alright?” Bellamy inquires.

“I am,” Clarke says. “Keep going.”

He takes a slow approach, sliding one inch of him into her every few moments. Every bit he puts inside of her, Bellamy looks up to check if she’s okay. He’s big, and it’s definitely a painful stretch, but one that eases. Clarke takes slow, steady breathes and assures Bellamy with kisses to continue. He does, until he’s filled up all of her the best that he can.

Clarke thought she was full with his cock in her mouth, but this is another feeling entirely. She’s stretched out, cunt sculpted around his cock, and it’s a different type of ache that soothes the one she was feeling before. There’s a slight discomfort to it, but the pain has subsided. She looks up to him, with blurry vision, as he stares down at her making sure that she’s okay.

“Oh, baby,” Clarke mewls. “Fuck me. Please.”

Her voice is so soft, pleading for him. Bellamy looks at her with such admiration and love, that her heart soars. There’s nothing else that she wants more than this – to be with Bellamy, to be giving every part of herself to him and him only.

“Of course, baby,” Bellamy leans down to kiss her. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Bellamy’s pace is gradual, thrusting in and out of her slowly, just so that she can get used to the stretch of him. His hand comes down to her clit once more, just to ease her through it. The feeling of having him inside of her, moving like this, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel good is unlike anything Clarke’s ever experienced. She’s not sure she ever will again, if not with Bellamy.

Eventually, Bellamy starts a normal pace, pounding into her at a rate that both of them enjoy. Clarke moans loudly, her voice echoing off the walls, as her hands come around his neck to hold onto him for support. Bellamy kisses her hard, and Clarke returns with the same vigor, as her cunt hugs his cock, her body screaming for everything that he’s giving to her.

“You’re so damn tight,” Bellamy groans. “All for me, huh?”

“All for you,” Clarke cries. “Only for you.”

“Just you and me. Only I can fuck you good, huh, baby?”

Clarke feels herself reach a peak, and gasps into his mouth. “Bell. Oh, baby, I–”

“I know, I know,” Bellamy soothes her. “It’s okay, baby. Come on my cock, and I’ll come inside you.”

Clarke moans at the thought. Bellamy keeps a steady pace on her clit, a fantastic rhythm with his thrusts and it’s not long before Clarke’s teetering over the edge. She comes with a loud groan, the feeling of her clit and cunt this satisfied an unearthly experience. Bellamy comes soon after, his come anchoring into her punt. It’s warm, and filling, and everything better than what she thought it would be.

Bellamy slides out of her, instantly going to embrace her. Clarke curls into his chest as Bellamy lays the covers over their naked bodies. He kisses the top of her head, trying to catch his own breath while she catches hers.

“You’re amazing, pretty girl,” Bellamy rasps. “So good.”

Clarke holds him closer. She kisses the skin on his chest, and looks up to him with a dazed smile. Bellamy grins down at Clarke, tired, but relieved to have her in his arms. She cuddles close to him, laying her cheek against his chest once more and watches as the late afternoon shifts to the evening.

She’s undoubtedly insanely late to her plans with Finn, but Clarke fully intends not to go. Her phone is definitely blowing up in the pocket of her skirt, along with the weed that belongs to Finn, but it’s a problem she’ll deal with another day. Right now, she has Bellamy, and after months without him, she doesn’t intend to let go anytime soon.

Bellamy seems to be on her similar path of thinking, tucking his hand under her chin to bring her eyes up to his. “This is it, Clarke. I mean it. You’re either with me, or you’re not.”

“I’m with you,” Clarke blurts out. “Only you. I only want to be with you.”

“I’m serious. No more of this coming and going shit–”

“There won’t be. I’m here, I will be here.” Clarke promises, laying her hand against his cheek. “Even if I go to a school halfway across the country in a couple months, if you want to keep selling, I don’t care, I’m with you.”

Bellamy’s nose brushes against hers. He knows Clarke better than she does, and while she says she won’t leave over his selling, he understands how it worries her. If they’re together, they should be together, without the constant threat of something ripping them apart.

“I’m going to be careful about it.” Bellamy tells her. “For you. I’m going to be here, too.”

“You better,” Clarke murmurs. “Cause I’m never letting you go again.” She adjusts herself, his come sticking to her thighs, but too comfortable where she is to get up. Looking up at him, a playful smile dances across her face. “You still have joints in your drawer?”

Bellamy furrows his eyebrows, but an amused smile crosses his features. “I do. Why?”

Minutes later, Clarke’s still curled up in bed, while Bellamy lights up a joint for her. He ensures to crack a window, settling back into bed and holding out the lit joint to her. Clarke watches it carefully, suspecting the roll of weed in Bellamy’s fingers.

“Are you sure you want to try this?” Bellamy stifles a laugh. “You can show support for my business without trying the product.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I feel like I’m missing out on my high school experience if I don’t.”

“You’ll still have my heart, even if you’re lame.”

She ignores him this time, as Bellamy chuckles. He holds the joint out for her, just inches away from her lips. Clarke leans forward, closing her mouth around the bud, lips brushing against Bellamy’s fingers. She takes a puff of the joint.

“Now, inhale,” Bellamy instructs. “Careful–”

Clarke bursts into a coughing fit. Bellamy places his hand on her upper back, as if burping her. Her throat burns and itches, but once it settles into her chest, warmth fills her body. She looks to Bellamy with a lazy smile, one that amuses him way more than it should. Bellamy takes a drag of the joint himself, inhaling with ease, before taking Clarke back into his embrace, and breathing out slowly.

“You going to charge me for this?” Clarke teases, leaning in to take another drag. She coughs again, but not as much this time, settling back against Bellamy’s chest.

“Not today,” Bellamy smirks, planting a kiss on top of her head. “Valentine’s Day discount.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> I'm on Twitter! @virgohotspot! Thank you for reading:)


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